


I Love My Pothole

by oceanshit (denial_four)



Category: PVRIS (Band), Panic! at the Disco, STARSET (Band), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Crack., F/M, M/M, don't even bother., don't read this., highschool au., private joke.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denial_four/pseuds/oceanshit
Summary: don't. if i didn't link you, you won't understand.





	1. Chapter 1

Message Man hated the fall. It was, hands down, their least favourite season. Because fall meant going back to school. And Mess, hated school, even more than they hated fall.

 

The first early school morning of the year started off pretty typical. Message Man’s parents dropped them and their twin brother, Josh (Dun) off at school, where Mess proceeded to lunge forward and shove Josh’s tiny, pink-clad form into a garbage bin- eliciting soft snickers from a few seniors that were loitering about, and making Josh cry out in protest and humiliation.

 

Unfortunately for Mess, though, as they were laughing at their brother, they had been paying little attention to the school entrance in front of them. So, just their luck, they ran straight into one of the clear glass doors, yelped, and fell on their ass.

 

This particular stunt wouldn’t help their case in school social circles much- they never failed to do something to make themself look stupid, even more than they already were. Half the school was already convinced that they couldn’t read at all.

 

Of course, Mess’ morning _could_ get even more miserable, and proceeded to do so, when the boy of his dreams decided to take a stroll past him on the steps.

 

Mess basically stared, open-mouthed and sprawled on the concrete, at Troye Sivan, for the entire ,time he passed. The younger boy glanced down at Mess, eyes giving away a touch of concern, and maybe mild disgust, but he didn’t say a word. And of course, in Mess’ mind, this meant that the perfect _angel_ of a being must like them. At least a little.

 

In any case, Josh seemed to think that this whole unraveling of events was enough payback for the garbage can fiasco, at least for now. He came up silently to Mess, helped them up- though was glaring at them the entire time- and walked into the school, disheveled but quiet. Mess put on their bitch face (which was basically the same expression they always wore, just slightly more passive-aggressive), and followed him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Though Mess’ entry was a bit of a catastrophe, it  didn’t get any worse in the first fifty-eight seconds it took for them to reach their locker, which was a good sign, to them at least.

 

That was, at least, until Brendon Urie snuck up on them. He had apparently approached behind the door of Mess’ locker as they gathered their books, and only spoke through the grate, seemingly trying to make his voice sound more attractive by lowering it a bit, or something. It really wasn’t working out.

 

“Hey there, you sit in sugar? ‘Cause you have a sweet ass.”

 

Mess jumped, cursing, startled.

 

‘ _He always pops up out of fucking nowhere. Is he even a fucking human?’_

 

Sighing heavily, Mess slowly gathered themself to make a reply, staring at Brendon’s shoes.

 

‘ _Those are the most god-awful shoes I have ever fucking seen. Are those vans? With checkers on them? Get a grip, pick up a magazine for once. And if he is wearing fucking sunglasses, inside, when it’s cloudy, I’m gonna deck him.’’_

 

But when Mess looked up, glaring, ready to tell Brendon that no, he hadn’t sat in sugar, because that’s fucking dumb, and that their ass was good enough without some fuckboy’s unneeded commentary on it, he was gone. Nowhere to be seen. Poof.

 

‘ _What a freak.’_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The first period that Mess had was history. Literally the worst class invented, ever. They never really paid attention. The teacher was an old and senile woman who never failed to fall asleep halfway through a lecture. And honestly it was a wonder that she hadn't died yet.

 

When Mess got to class, they observed the room. They spotted their brother, on the other side, sitting with Tyler, who was his closest friend- but they could not quite spot the senile old woman.  

 

Soon enough, though, they found Blurryface- Tyler’s twin, Josh’s boyfriend, and Mess’ all-around worst nightmare of a best friend.

 

‘Found’ is a bit of a stretch though, because Blurry didn't,  casually wave from the corner of the class, or anything- he physically plowed into Mess, launching them into a desk as they squealed and hugged them.

 

“Bro, hi bro, shit, did you get new mascara? Looks so good bro, d’you get your eyebrows done? Holy fuck, me too bro, it's like we’re connecte-”

 

‘ _Why is this happening to me. What God decided that I deserved this in my life?_ ’

 

Mess shut Blurry up by nodding, smiling,  shoving him off, and walking over towards Tyler and Josh- Blurry followed energetically behind him.

 

‘ _He’s lucky that he sells weed. And that I love him, I guess._ ’

 

Tyler and Josh looked up as they came over, Josh smiling weakly, mainly focused on Blurry- everyone cared about Blurry more, he was a big, annoying, drug-dealing, pretty, popular sack of ass- but Tyler actually paid more attention to Mess.

 

Tyler smiled at Mess, and Mess smiled back- a rare occurrence, but Ty always got it out of them. Ty was a soft, sweet soul who didn't really seem to belong anywhere- somewhere he'd found himself into this messed up friendship group. They exchanged a few quiet words about their nights, and looked up beside them to see Josh and Blurry, sloppily (loudly, grossly) making out next to them.

 

Tyler and Mess scowled, even though they both didn't care all that much.

 

“Gosh you two-”

“Get a-”

“Room!”

 

The two non-kissing twins whipped around to look at eachother again, grinning widely at the fact that they'd finished eachother’s sentence, and high-fived.

 

Mess could practically feel Blurry light up with an idea next to him, and they barely had time to sigh before the idea exploded outwards, loudly.

 

“ **_We need a big group secret handshake for the twin team!_ ** ”

 

Tyler shrugged. Josh rubbed his now-deaf ear and smiled approvingly at Blurry, through it all. Mess scowled.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mess managed to survive history class, even though they'd been forced into creating a four-person handshake- a four minute ordeal that consisted of piggyback patty-cake,  whips, hair flips, dabs, and synchronized finger snapping- and that the old senile woman had been replaced with a much younger, more attractive woman, and Mess got in shit for staring bluntly at her boobs. It was hard not to, when that shit was bouncing all over your textbook.

 

Second period was maths, and although it wasn't as bad as history, none of Mess’ closest friends were in the class with them. Kalel was there, but Mess only saw her every so often outside of school. And Brendon Urie sat directly behind him, which, of course, made everything in the class ten times worse.

 

The problem with Brendon Boyd Urie became apparent for the first time in the class while Mess was taking notes, minding their own business. They felt a finger touch the back of their head, tugging at one of their loose curls, and they sighed, opting to ignore it. This continued for a solid twenty minutes. But they were stubborn.

 

The only _real_ conflict that really occurred was about 40 minutes before the class was set to end.

 

The first attack came when Mess, _actually_ trying to do a math problem, for once, murmured frustratedly to themself, “Why is there a fucking decimal there? Stupid.”

 

“Decimals have a point, you know.”

 

Mess glared directly at the front board, gritting their teeth as the voice from behind him spoke perfectly even, and dead serious. They went back to work.

 

Five minutes later.

 

“You know what else is pretty pointy? My-”

 

“Oh my God, just shut the fuck u-”

 

Mess stopped dead in their angry turnaround. Instead of whipping around to smack some sense into Brendon, they met eyes with a very disappointed-looking Kalel, and was ultimately extremely confused as to how Bren had fucking left so fast.

 

“Mess, the heck did I tell you about swearing in school? It's inappropriate. And don't say ‘God,’ could offend someone. How dare you use that tone with me anyways? I for one am very-”

 

Mess stared blankly into the blue eyes of the ranting swimmer for the remaining 30 minutes of class.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At last, lunch. Mess made his way to the cafeteria, to the table where they and their friends always sat- Josh, Tyler, Blurry, Kalel, and Brendon Boyd Urie all sat together. None of them ate too much, just snacked. Nobody eats around here much.

 

“I saw Bren staring at Mess’ ass earlier, FYI.” Blurry input aa a conversation starter, making everyone ‘Ooo’ softly and look to Mess, who rolled their eyes and faceplanted into the table. Everyone proceeded to look to Bren, who shrugged, and said, “Congrats, you've got eyes?”

 

The rest of the conversations at lunch contained similar gossip and topics, such as, “There goes Troye Sivan, there goes Mess’ ability to think independently,” (which was fairly accurate), “Does Mallory even ever show up for school?” And, “Okay, but are there any hot freshmans this year?”

 

Of course, that comment triggered another genius idea from the almighty Blurryface, who proceeded to drag a tiny freshman girl up onto a table, insult her makeup, and cause laughter to ripple around the room. The girl nearly cried. Tyler nearly cried, he apologized so many times. Josh hit his head against the table and didn't look back up until the bell rang.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Biology. Mess and Tyler teamed up to dissect a frog, which Mess thought was awesome- Tyler, not so much.

 

The taller boy’s uncomfortable squirming attracted the attention of the partners stationed next to them- Lynn Gunn and Dustin Bates.

 

Mess didn't particularly like either of these assholes, here. Lynn Gunn was a self-righteous bitch who didn't do anything for anyone except for herself. Mind you, she was pretty hot. Although it was common knowledge that she was also a raging lesbian. So Mess didn't even have that comfort to take the edge off of things.

 

‘ _Does she wear anything that_ **_isn't_ ** _plaid?_ ’

 

Dustin Bates was similar, but more socially awkward, less good at sports, and shorter. And not a lesbian. (But maybe he was a lesbian?) He was the king nerd, a band geek, and a physics god- he had friends, but also tended to follow Lynn around like around like around like a lost puppy dog.

 

‘ _He looks like a Star Wars figurine.’_

 

Lynn sneered at Tyler.

 

“What a giant baby. Big boy can't handle a little blood? Aw, guess we know why he can't make any sports teams.”

 

Dustin shifted in the background, crossing his arms to look threatening and tossing in a, “Yeah, sports teams.” To finish it off.

 

Tyler, more sensitive (or ‘in touch with his emotions’ as Blurry liked to call it) than most, looked like he might cry. And Mess got angrier than they'd been all summer.

 

Mess lunged forward and grabbed the first potentially dangerous thing they could find- which just happened to be a chemistry pipette- and swung back over to the side, jamming it up Lynn’s nose, as hard as they could.

 

Long story short, Mess got a few hours of community service and a Sunday morning detention as compensation for making Lynn Gunn fall into a half-opened frog and bleed to the point of near-unconsciousness- but that seemed worth it in their eyes. They could watch Tyler thank them silently, and they could also watch Josh take Tyler to the other side of the classroom and seethe at Mess for their ‘foul’ actions.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Last period, finally.

 

Visual arts.

 

The only assignment the group had was a start to their art portfolios. Everybody Mess had met throughout the day was in this one class, which meant one thing, a disaster.

 

Mess got to work drawing Lady Gaga, because honestly, if they couldn't show off their inner gay by dating Troye Sivan, then drawing Lady Gaga was near the next best thing, right?

 

Tyler took the same thought process as Mess- well, sort of- and started to draw a celebrity too, some obscure singer that nobody else in the room had probably ever heard of. Josh and Blurry started to draw portraits of eachother, giggling quietly in their corner-placed seats. Big surprise.

 

Mess didn't find out who everybody else in the class had decided to draw- although it did become apparent at the end of class that both Kalel and Brendon Boyd Urie had decided to draw them. (Mess personally all thought it was a little fucking creepy- but Kalel at least claimed that she picked them as they had ‘good face symmetry’- Bren was a different story. Creep.)

 

The only reason Mess even found that out was because Brendon tried to fight Kalel about who was drawing Mess more ‘beautifully.’ Brendon clearly thought it was him. Kalel and everybody else could care less. They tried to ignore him but it was hard when he kept yelling. So everybody congregated into one corner without him and talked about makeup until the class ended.

 

And Mess could finally get away from 1) Brendon Boyd Urie, and 2) School, the only thing they hated more than fall.

 

They went home and immediately went to sleep.

 

‘ _Fucking weirdos._ ’


	2. Chapter 2

As Brendon Urie walked into the school the next morning, he didn’t have much to think about. But he did have one thing on his mind. One thing that peaked his interest, never failed to capture his attention, kept him lying awake in bed at night.

  
Asses.

  
Yes, Bren was scoping out asses in the school hallway as he entered, wearing his (hideously) out-of-style checkered vans, a Jean jacket with a white tank top, black skinny jeans, and purple tinted aviator sunglasses. Ah yes, a look that could kill.

  
Bren, of course, did have one particular ass on his mind. Well, two- Jennifer Lopez’ and Mess’ Much to his dismay he didn’t think he was going to find J-Lo in his highschool corridor. But he could find Mess.

Theoretically. If they were, where they always were.

  
And they were.

  
Bren grinned inwardly, spotting them. Of course, eyes making contact with their butt and then working back up. He plowed sideways into the locker next to theirs, earning a disgusted look (‘ _fuck_ , degrade me _harder_ daddy’) and a heavy sigh.

  
Alright. This was the time Bren. This was the time to use one of the pickup lines you’ve been so feverishly practising. Get ready.

  
“Did you know that the human body contains over ten million cells? Well even with ten million, all of mine think all of yours are 10/10- million.”

  
Mess just looked confused, at this point. But Bren was grinning expectantly. And as his target closed their locker slowly, frowned, turned away without replying, and left, Brendon took it as a good sign.

 

* * *

 

Bren reached his first class and immediately passed out in his desk. Nobody woke him up. He even stayed there until the warning bell for second period rang. And even then, someone only woke him up because he was sitting in their desk.

  
Eventually, in any case. Second period came around. Now, this was the near highlight of Bren’s day, because they got to sit right behind Message Man and their nice butt the whole time.

  
Of course, the class started out calmly. Mess looked bored. Bren was bored. So he kept watching the back of their head. Wow. Their hair looked pretty soft. Maybe they should- no, probably not. Well, maybe they should just.. touch it. Just a little. Just to. Test it out. Maybe it wasn’t soft. Maybe Bren could suggest that they used conditioner. That’d help. That’s helpful. Right?

  
This was the thought process that lead Bren to close fingers around one of Mess’ curls, unfortunately at the same time they were trying to lean forward- hence, ripping a good chunk of their hair out, making them spasm a bit in their seat, and flip around with a rageful (hot!) look in their eyes.

  
“What the _fuck_?” They hissed, sounding kind of like a snake, which was intriguing. And this was maybe the first time Mess had spoken properly to Bren. He was mesmerized, to say the least, and was only brought out of it when Mess slapped him in frustration, because apparently he was ignoring everything that they were saying, maybe drooling a little.

  
Bren just winked. “Kinky. I’m into that if you’re into it, babe.”

  
Mess, in turn, growled, bit like a big cat of some sort, and turned back around to ignore Brendon.

  
Meanwhile Bren was left quietly with his thoughts. Huh, Mess sure made a lot of animal noises. Bren wondered if Mess knew this. Bren also wondered if maybe Mess was a furry. He wasn’t there to judge.

 

* * *

 

Looking out over the tables from his perch on a windowsill, Bren sipped at a dumbly-flavoured Monster Energy drink and lurked by the table where Mess, Josh, Blurry, and all their other little friends sat.

  
Bren absently watched Blurry and Josh make out from the corner of his eye. Kinda gross. Kinda hot. Hard to tell which, at this point, really.

  
Mostly he was eyeing the cafeteria food line. He would do anything for a plate of food. But today, he was broke. And he just had this energy drink. He prayed for energy.

  
But it was hard to focus on prayers to a electron god when an all- _blessed_ smell was reaching his nostrils. What, ho? Was that… cheese?

  
Bren floated from his window seat, past the garbage bins and to the line, where he stood, looking past the sheep – eyed crowd of idiots walking by with their trays. There it was.

  
Were his nostrils deceiving him? No. It was so. Freshly made tins of… broccoli. But not just normal steamed broccoli. This was broccoli, covered- in cheese sauce.

  
Bren was in heaven. _Cheese heaven_. Seeing, smelling, feeling the essence of this substance was like witnessing the birth of Christ himself.

  
Of course, Bren still didn’t have any money for said cheesy goodness. But he did have the element of surprise when he lunged to the left, snatched a chocolate bar off of a girls tray, and ran all the way out the back entrance of the school.

  
Jokes' on you.

 

* * *

 

 

In third period, Bren used all the might he had left to try and not fall asleep. But of course, he’d stayed up all night playing piano tiles, and so he did anyways.

  
Not like it mattered so much, when the only remaining relevant class was art. Art was where everyone he knew, and everyone they knew, were all shoved into one big medley of a class. It was like a mashup of Trivium and Justin Bieber. Beautiful. But also made you want to rip out your hair at times.

  
Bren got back to work on his art, because that, at least, was something he was fairly good at. Besides, he had to at least draw a better portrait of Mess than Kalel could. Come on. She lived in a pool. Her fingers were too shriveled to hold a pencil, anyway.

  
Of course this meant that Bren had to actually look at Mess (not in the _ass_ , more in the _eyes_ ) to try and find their facial feature shapes. And it was characteristically at this time of day that Bren would fall into a state of hopeless, _gay_. There was no other real word to describe it. Because Bren was being faced with, well, a face, rather than a butt, which he wasn’t used to. And it was hard, y’know? Being exposed to something so beautiful so suddenly. Kind of like if you were expecting FedEx to deliver a crate of cat toys to your door. But you got a vibrating dildo instead. Shocking.

  
In any case, while watching Mess, Bren had come to notice that they were staring at something (someone?) else, which was in the connected room beside theirs. And Bren knew in his gut what it was. It was probably Troye Sivan.

  
Now, make no mistake. Trout was a pretty fine specimen. But he also looked like a lemur. And Bren wasn’t into lemurs, nuh uh.

  
So this is why, when Troye Sivan ( _Trout Sedan_?) came across the connecting doors to ask their art teacher for a sharpie, Bren tripped the fuck outta him. And he landed on his face on the floor, and half the class erupted into laughter. The other half just glared at Bren. He elected to ignore this, grinning a bit proudly to himself instead.

  
He wasn’t grinning so proudly when Troye got back up and punched him in the face.

  
 _Shocking_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter sucks i have to get used to writing this shit again sry. also im actually trying to plot this story wow look at me go

When Blurry informed Mess that Troye Sivan might've just murdered Brendon Boyd Urie on the other end of their art class, they were finally forced to look up from their charcoal drawing of a gremlin and take notice of what was happening around them. Which, typically, they preferred not to do. But alas, Troye Sivan was involved. In  _hitting_  Brendon Boyd Urie. That, Mess could get on board with.

 

Bored (as fuck) eyes looking up over their desk, as Blurry had started to grab them by the shoulders and shake them excitedly, Mess did indeed, see Troye standing over Brendon (who was bleeding, a lot) with a smug look on his face as he nailed him a second time in the chest. Mess sighed. What were they supposed to feel right now? They didn't have the slightest idea.

 

Well, they could at least take notes on the situation. One. Troye Sivan looked hot punching someone. Two, Brendon Boyd Urie probably deserved to get beat up. Three, Brendon Boyd Urie looked  _mildly_  attractive covered in his own blood. Mildly. Four, Mess really did not want to deal with this today.

 

Nobody in the class was moving, really. The teacher had disappeared, the emos emoing, populars popularing, Blurry cheering them on with the volume of an entire stadium on his own, it was chaos.

 

Mess was on the move.

 

By 'on the move,' really they meant that in the span of about 4 minutes, they'd stood, walked over, and watched Brendon Boyd Urie get punched about 3 more times, as well as threatened. It gave them a mild sense of satisfaction, but also made their fingers twitch. Which they hated themself for. Why would they defend the fuckboy.

They did it anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hey, Troye, can you like.. let him go, I think you proved your point, and it’d suck if you got suspended for giving him what he deserved.” Mess said, blankly, honestly, staring emotionlessly at Troye Sivan.

 

In all honesty? Mess was a bit star-struck right now. A bit. It was doubtful they’d ever purposely gotten this close to Troye before. The only other time might’ve been in 7th grade when they smashed headfirst into him during a dodgeball game. Ah, middle school. Even more embarrassing than highschool. As an underdeveloped, clumsy human, with feet too big for your body, you consistently fucked up everything, and then had to pray to God that nobody would remember it. For the rest of your life.

 

Troye Sivan blankly stared back at Mess. Mess thought he was going to agree with them. Or maybe kiss them. Hey, that’d be good. Instead he scowled, dropped Brendon Urie harshly against the floor, and rolled his eyes. Wow. Hotter than ever.

 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Dun. Aren’t you behind like three grades or something? And, that fall the other day was super graceful. Glad you can play off your strengths. Maybe you should go to clown school.”

 

Wow. Immediately less hot. Mess stared at him blankly and with 0 reaction. The only sound in the room was a quiet ‘ooooh’ from Blurry in the background.

 

That was, until Brendon Urie screamed, “Karate chop,” at the top of his lungs, and smashed his hand into the side of Troye Sivan’s neck, sending him sprawling across the floor, gasping. Mess, still, blinked in mild shock, sighed, shook their head, and moved forward to yank Brendon to his feet before he did any more damage to himself. That’s why they were there in the first place, anyways.

 

Troye growled, sitting up from the floor with help from one of his minions (friends).

 

“Yeah, go ahead and save him, two against one is real mature, I was distracted.” He claimed, which seemed a lot like grasping at straws, to Mess.

 

“Distracted? Sorry, just looked like you bit off more than you could chew. That fall? Priceless, by the way. You should go to clown school. Bet I can get you in, you know, with all my connections. And Instagram.” Mess deadpanned and shoved Bren along before he could stick his tongue down their throat, high-fiving Blurry on the way back- a valuable friend to have, because he had, as predicted, caught the whole thing on video. Instagram would be getting love tonight.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“He didn’t even roast you good.” Josh snorted as the group walked home from school, crammed into a clump on the sidewalk so none of them would get hit by cars (not that sidewalks ever seemed to stop them from running into traffic).

 

“I know. It’s like he doesn’t know anything about pop culture. Or speaking.” Mess answered, kicking a rock with their right toe as they walked slightly ahead of the group. “Like, my roast wasn’t that great either? But to be fair, Brendon Urie was assaulting me. And Blurry did get it on Instagram, anyways, so I won.”

 

Mess was not entirely sure how to feel. The guy they’d had a crush on for at least a year? Definitely not boyfriend material anymore. And why had Brendon Urie stood up for them so well? Like, he obviously wanted to fuck them, but Mess didn’t think he could actually be jealous of Troye. Could he? Why else would he have tripped him in the first place?

 

They shook their head to clear their mind and shoved their cold fingers into their pockets. Tyler came up to walk beside them so that they wouldn’t be alone. Mess appreciated it, honestly. They could always count on Ty.

 

“Are you okay?” They heard him ask. They shrugged, nodded, and looked over with a slight smile. Tyler looked overly concerned for the situation. He’d cuddled into his hoodie and made sweater paws, and his hair was falling over his forehead in soft curls. If Mess and him weren’t such close friends, Mess probably would’ve found him cute,  too.

 

“I’m fine. Just confused. Like what the fuck?” Tyler seemed to accept this as a satisfactory answer and nodded, glancing behind them at Josh and Blurry, who seemed to have stopped a ways off for a quick dry-hump session.

 

“I think Bren likes you. Like he actually likes you. He’s kind of.. super weird, but? I don’t know any other reason he’d take that much of a beating from Troye. It’s not like he isn’t gigantic, he could’ve totally crushed the guy.”

 

Mess took this into consideration. Tyler, though naïve, was not wrong. He was pretty right, in fact. And that was concerning.

 

“I guess I should? Thank him?” Mess suggested in question, looking for advice on the whole thing. Mess did not want to talk to Brendon Urie more than they had to. But Mess would probably do whatever Ty told them to, because he was on the least amount of drugs and actually knew what was going on most of the time.

 

“I think you probably should. Because he might have two black eyes and a busted rib now.. sort of because of you. So.”

 

Mess sighed. Of course. More Brendon Urie. What isn’t to love? If he made them be his friend, Mess was at least going to make sure that he bought new fucking shoes.

 

“Right. Well. If he doesn’t try to eye-fuck me before I get the words out, I guess I will.” Mess could not think of anything they’d want to do less.

 

Tyler considered this. “Makes sense.” He agreed after a short pause.

 

They walked the rest of the way home in silence, the only noise being the quiet crunch of leaves under their feet. Which coincidentally sounded like Troye’s fist hitting Brendon’s jaw.


End file.
